Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Yun Songzhang stood before her in a modern suit and glasses, making it impossible to get into character.

Wen Zhi stared at him for two seconds before turning to Director Zhou. "Director Zhou, he can't act like this."

Director Zhou sized up Yun Songzhang and suddenly understood. "You're right. Hair/makeup and wardrobe team, take our male lead to change into period costume and get styled."

Wen Zhi: That wasn’t exactly what she meant.

The hair/makeup and wardrobe team swarmed around Yun Songzhang, ushering him toward the temporary dressing room. Director Zhou told Wen Zhi to take a break while he filmed other scenes first.

Wen Zhi beckoned to Mu Mu and led him to the break area. A production assistant immediately came over with snacks and drinks, eagerly asking if the child wanted any. Wen Zhi took them with a thanks before asking Mu Mu, "Are you cold?"

Mu Mu shook his head, showing her his puffy jacket. "Grandpa Zhong bought this for me—it's super warm, even warmer than a cloak." He touched his hat and gloves. "The gloves, hat, and scarf were bought by my auntie. They're really warm too. Uncle Yun even got me a little hand warmer. I'm not cold at all."

Wen Zhi: "School's still in session. Why did you skip again?"

Mu Mu pouted. "Kindergarten's no fun. There are babies crying all the time. Mom, can I start elementary school next year? Uncle Yun said I’m ready."

Wen Zhi pinched his little nose. "You're such a daredevil, running off with Uncle Yun all by yourself so far. Weren’t you afraid he’d sell you?"

Mu Mu: "Uncle Yun would never! After the Grand Tutor, I trust him the most."

Wen Zhi thought for a moment. "What if the Grand Tutor came and told you not to play with Uncle Yun? What would you do?"

Mu Mu immediately retorted, "The Grand Tutor would never do that. He’s very reasonable and fair-minded. He’d just become friends with Uncle Yun—they both knew everything about past and present." The Grand Tutor knew everything, and Uncle Yun knew so many cool stories he’d never heard before.

Wen Zhi teased him. "But what if the Grand Tutor and Uncle Yun became such good friends they ignored you, little one?"

Mu Mu seemed stunned by the possibility. "Then... then..." The little boy scratched his head, struggling before mumbling, "I wish they could be the same person. Then I could like them both, and they’d both like me."

Wen Zhi bopped him on the forehead. "What are you thinking? Do your Grand Tutor and Uncle Yun even look alike?" The Dog Emperor had claimed to see Shen Yizhi lying sick in bed with his own eyes.

Mu Mu rubbed his forehead, looking troubled.

"The resemblance is uncanny!" Director Zhou suddenly clapped and exclaimed nearby, startling Wen Zhi and her son.

The entire crew turned to look in the same direction, murmurs rising.

"Assistant Director is amazing—just finding someone off the street who’s even more handsome than Huo Xi."

"Goodness, he looks incredible in period costume."

"Bet he's got the lead role locked up."

Wen Zhi followed their gazes. The curtain of the dressing room was pulled aside as Yun Songzhang stepped out, slightly bowing his head. His gold-rimmed glasses were gone, making his nose appear even more striking. His light-colored eyes gazed into the distance as if peering through mountains and rivers straight into one’s heart. His originally tall frame, draped in a blue-green cloak, now seemed slightly slender—especially his hands, elegant and well-defined, like the lush bamboo outside the Lotus Palace, impossible to look away from.

If before, only his posture and silhouette bore some resemblance to Shen Yizhi, now his appearance and aura was eerily similar.

Mu Mu suddenly broke free from her grip and ran toward Yun Songzhang, shouting excitedly, "Grand Tutor!"

Yun Songzhang crouched and naturally took Mu Mu’s hand, his smile gentle and indulgent.

The little boy clung to his neck, nuzzling against him, voice trembling. "Grand Tutor, I missed you so much."

The crew laughed. The Assistant Director tentatively asked, "Teacher Wen, your child seems perfect for the young prince role in the script. How about the whole family being in the movie?"

Wen Zhi: "The whole family?"

The assistant director quickly waved his hands: "Oh dear, my bad, I spoke out of habit. That..."

Ms. Wen: "Absolutely not." It wasn't a good memory to begin with, no need to put Mu Mu through it again.

The assistant director immediately looked crestfallen: "Well, I was getting ahead of myself. Guess I'll have to keep looking for a child actor."

Director Zhou nearby clapped and laughed heartily: "Ha ha ha, this costume is perfect! Seems we shouldn't limit our casting to just industry insiders. So, Ms. Wen, are you ready to rehearse now?"

Ms. Wen snapped back to reality: "Yes."

Director Zhou: "Lights, camera, continuity—get ready."

"Uh, Mr. Yun, right? Have you memorized all your lines?"

Yun Songzhang: "Yes, Director Zhou. Just call me Songzhang." Coding is far more complex than lines.

The AD started clearing the area as everyone got into position.

The continuity slated the scene: "Scene 9, Shot 11, Take 1—the male and female leads meet at the *Qionglin* Banquet. Action!"

Ms. Wen stood in a secluded corner of the imperial garden, a massive osmanthus tree behind her and an emerald-green lake ahead. The lively sound of music drifted from afar, heightening her isolation. The wind blew cold, and she shivered, asking her maid to fetch her a coat.

The maid hesitated: "My Lady..." She glanced around nervously. "If I leave, you'll be left alone."

Ms. Wen frowned slightly: "Just go."

Not daring to delay, the maid hurried off.

Soon, a tall figure appeared on the opposite shore of the lake.

Ms. Wen gazed into the distance—the gentle-eyed Top Scholar happened to look her way at the same moment.

They locked eyes for a long while before Ms. Wen smiled and offered congratulations: "It's been so long. How have you been, Top Scholar Shen?"

A spark of joy flashed across Shen Zhi's eyes, followed by regret and sorrow. His lips pressed into a thin line as he strode toward her without a word. Ms. Wen grew flustered—during the actual *Qionglin* Banquet, she and Shen Yizhi had merely exchanged glances from afar without speaking.

As Shen Zhi approached, he said nothing, simply grasping her shoulders gently and pulling her into an embrace, his azure cloak enveloping her entirely. The lotus flowers on the lake trembled slightly as he whispered words only she could hear: "I've wanted to do this for years. After all this time... how have you been, My Lady?"

His cadence was strangely familiar, and the way he said "My Lady" sounded strikingly like Shen Yizhi.

If she closed her eyes, even the faint scent of cedar on him was similar though barely perceptible.

Ms. Wen's heart pounded wildly. She shoved him away abruptly, searching his face intently.

"Cut!" Director Zhou's excited voice rang out. He strode toward Yun Songzhang with a megaphone, praising as he walked: "Excellent, absolutely brilliant! Young man, you've got the lead role! Come, Songzhang, let's discuss contract details while they film the next scene."

Before Ms. Wen could say anything, Yun Songzhang was ushered away by Director Zhou to sign contracts with the assistant director.

An assistant hurried over to drape a coat over Ms. Wen and handed her a thermos. Mu Mu came running up and whispered: "Mom, Uncle Yun looks so much like the Grand Tutor... but his legs are fine." The Grand Tutor had walked with a slight limp—though barely perceptible, but Mu Mu had caught it.

Only then did Ms. Wen snap out of it: He's Yun Songzhang, not Shen Zhi, and certainly not Shen Yizhi.

The screenwriter approached: "Ms. Wen, didn't you insist last time that the male lead must have a limp? Director Zhou mentioned it too. I think we can change it—what do you think...?"

Ms. Wen: "Oh, I just threw it out there. It's fine if he isn't lame."

The screenwriter: "...But—"

Ms. Wen said matter-of-factly: "With a lead this handsome, what a shame it'd be to make him limp." She'd always carried guilt over Shen Yizhi's leg. If possible, she'd have scoured the land for doctors to heal him. Now that they were finally in modern times, making him lame in the script would haunt her conscience.

The screenwriter muttered to herself: That's not what you said the other day.

Who was it that insisted the male lead must be lame just a few days ago?

The screenwriter glanced at Yun Songzhang in the distance: Damn these looks-obsessed times!

Wen Zhi didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about her blatant favoritism and went right back to playing with her son.

Soon, the Assistant Director returned with Yun Songzhang and said to Wen Zhi with a smile, "Um, Ms. Wen, since we've changed the male lead at the last minute, we'll need you to reshoot the scenes you previously filmed with the original male lead."

Wen Zhi expressed her understanding, and the Assistant Director added, "We'll shoot several scenes in a row this afternoon. It'll be tough on you."

A little extra effort was fine, but Wen Zhi was somewhat frustrated: What was Yun Songzhang up to now? He came to visit the set with Mu Mu and ended up becoming the male lead?

Before, he avoided her so thoroughly he went abroad and wouldn't even pick up her calls. Now he's hanging around under her nose every day—what's the meaning of this?

At lunchtime, Wen Zhi planned to join the crowd and grab a boxed meal. Yun Songzhang, however, specially arranged healthy meals for her and Mu Mu while he went to get a boxed meal himself and joined the other actors to eat together.

As she ate, Wen Zhi observed him and noticed he was a real conversationalist. In no time, he had fit right in with everyone, even earning a "Brother Yun" from Zhang Miaoran. This was certainly better than Shen Yizhi—back when Shen Yizhi was an official, he was upright and restrained, offending many people. After being framed and imprisoned, not a single person in the court lifted a finger to help him.

Suddenly, Yun Songzhang turned his head and locked eyes with her, the corners of his lips quirking up briefly.

Wen Zhi didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught staring. She pursed her lips and lowered her head to continue eating. Earlier, she had considered asking Yun Songzhang to help check her email, but now she suddenly didn't want to bother him.

Joining the crew meant long-term filming, and Wen Zhi was worried about Mu Mu's safety and her inability to take proper care of him. She called Uncle Zhong and asked him to arrange for two assistants and a tutor to come, to look after Mu Mu and give him lessons.

In the afternoon, they reshot previously filmed scenes. Wen Zhi had already memorized her lines, so it was easy for her. She had expected Yun Songzhang to take some time to review the script, but to the director's surprise, he only needed a quick glance to remember most of it.

Director Zhou asked Wen Zhi cheerfully, "What does your friend do for a living? His memory is incredible!"

Wen Zhi: "He graduated from A University, did his postgraduate studies at an Ivy League school, and now works as a code monkey."

Director Zhou was amazed: "No wonder. Memorizing code is way harder than lines."

Wen Zhi: "Director Zhou, have you ever written code before?"

Director Zhou chuckled awkwardly: "I tinkered with it in college, but it was just too difficult."

Before they could chat further, Yun Songzhang called out, "Director Zhou, I'm ready." He held up the script and added, "Some of the lines don't have to be word-for-word, right? Can I improvise a little?"

Director Zhou nodded: "As long as it fits the scene. We'll do ADR later anyway." Then he called out to the rest of the crew, "All departments, positions!"

Wen Zhi shed her down jacket and began acting. The two of them played off each other with surprising chemistry, quickly wrapping up most of the reshoots.

Director Zhou announced, "This is the last scene for the afternoon! After this, we're wrapped for the day!"

The clapperboard sounded: "Scene 12, Take 19, First shot—Consort's prison rescue; Grand Tutor's secret vow. Action!"

Wen Zhi felt a migraine coming when she heard the scene description: "Secretly vows"? Back then in the prison, Shen Yizhi was just showing gratitude, nothing more!

Fine, let's shoot.

The prison was dimly lit. A young eunuch carried a palace lantern until they reached the end of the cell block, where he said respectfully, "Your Highness, Lord Shen is inside."

An oil lamp flickered on the prison wall. In its wavering light, they could see a figure sitting on the floor at the far end of the cell. His robes were soiled, yet his posture remained ramrod straight.

Wen Zhi waved the eunuch away. He nodded and threw a glance at the others. Understanding the cue, they quickly withdrew.

Only the two of them remained in the dim cell.

"Lord Shen..."

Shen Zhi remained motionless, his back still to her.

Wen Zhi sighed and tried to console him: "The officialdom is corrupt, and going along to survive has been a practice since ancient times. Why dwell on it, Lord Shen?"

The man with his back to her still didn’t speak. Wen Zhi vividly remembered his bold declaration when he first entered officialdom: 'As an official, I shall uphold justice for the people, rid the monarch of folly, and eliminate threats while fostering prosperity for the nation.' Now, the monarch had discarded him, the 'pure white sand' in the mud, to preserve the stability of the realm—it must’ve crushed him.

"Lord Shen, come out. The case of embezzlement in the Jiangnan military funds has been concluded. I’ll take you out."

Finally, the man turned. His once-bright eyes were shadowed, but when they met hers, they regained their firmness. Shen Zhi stood up, walked to the iron-barred cell door, lifted the hem of his robe, and knelt before her.

Wen Zhi stepped back in surprise but remained silent.

Shen Zhi kowtowed deeply to her, then looked into her eyes and solemnly vowed: "From this day forth, my life belongs to you, Your Highness. No longer for the nation, but for you alone. Whatever you desire, I’d die for it."

His gaze was earnest and resolute, burning his promise into her heart.

Through him, she seemed to glimpse the young man who had once made her a promise in the imperial prison.

Wen Zhi felt weirdly flustered.

No—!

That wasn’t how the line was supposed to go.

Back then, Shen Yizhi had only said, 'My life is yours from now on,' and nothing more.

What did he mean by 'for you alone'? That didn’t sound like loyalty—it sounded like love!

"Cut!"

Director Zhou called for a stop, frowning at Wen Zhi. "Wen Zhi, why didn’t you respond? The next step was to lead Shen Zhi out."

Before Wen Zhi could reply, Yun Songzhang quickly apologized, "My bad for ad-libbing, and Xiao Zhi got derailed. Go easy on her."

Director Zhou: "Wow, I barely got a word in, and he’s already shielding her."

Yun Songzhang continued, "Director, I analyzed Shen Zhi’s character carefully. He’s a total brick wall, which makes emotional development difficult. I thought he needed to just say it straight."

That makes zero sense. How could someone as reserved and introspective as Shen Yizhi be so direct?

Director Zhou chuckled approvingly. "Typical data nerd move—your analysis is spot-on. The revised lines really bring out the meaning."

Yun Songzhang: "Don’t hype me up."

Wen Zhi: "Pfft! Data nerd? After today, it’s clear he’s an actor at heart."

She regained her composure, adjusted her expression, and asked Yun Songzhang, "What was that script flip? You totally derailed me."

Yun Songzhang played dumb. "I felt the original lines fell flat. Maybe what I said was what he truly wanted to express."

Wen Zhi: "..."

Mind reader now?

Director Zhou: "Moving on. Wen Zhi and Songzhang, just exit the cell."

The clapperboard sounded again: "Scene 12, Take 2—Consort Rescues from Prison, Grand Tutor’s Hidden Pledge, action!"

Wen Zhi initially felt her scalp tingle at the mention of "this so-called love story," but by now, she had grown somewhat numb to it.

Habits were scary like that. Who knows, one day she might wake up genuinely believing that Shen Yizhi had sought to perish together with the Dog Emperor out of some deep, undying love for her.

Wen Zhi opened the prison cell door: "Sir Shen..."

Shen Zhi stepped out of the cell, and the two walked one after the other toward the exit of the dungeon. As they neared the exit, sunlight streamed in, casting their intertwined shadows on the ground.

The moment they stepped out, Wen Zhi looked up at the sky, her eyes alight with quiet joy: "The sky... has brightened."

Shen Zhi also raised his gaze to the sky...

Then, wispy snowflakes began to fall without warning, growing heavier and heavier...

Everyone on set looked up at the sky as a childish voice rang out amidst the snowfall: "Wow, Mommy, it's snowing..." Mu Mu was overjoyed, lifting his fair, tender face to catch the snowflakes with his hands.

Director Zhou finally snapped out of it and called "Cut!" He grinned like an idiot, exclaiming, "It's finally snowing! The forecast said it would snow yesterday, but we waited all day and got zip. Today, it’s finally here!"

"Good, good! Let’s wrap up the afternoon scenes here. All departments, prepare—we’ll wait for the snow to pile up a bit more. Tonight and tomorrow, we have two big scenes to shoot."

After dinner, the assistant and tutor hired by Uncle Zhong arrived. Since Wen Zhi still had night scenes to film, she could only let the three of them accompany Mu Mu for study and rest at the hotel.

As she went over her lines, she kept glancing at her phone. The email she had sent to Writer Shen still hadn’t been answered, and no friend request had come through on WeChat. How come he could reply to the director’s emails but ignored her?

Yun Songzhang, sitting beside her, let his gaze linger on her phone for two seconds before reminding her, "The director said there are a few tweaks to the details. Make sure to check."

Wen Zhi replied distractedly, "Got it."

The night scene was the one where she was pushed off the Immortal Tower. Such a seared-into-her-mind memory—even without looking at the script, she could recall every detail.

Finding a towering Immortal Tower as described in the novel wasn’t difficult, but Director Zhou, concerned for Wen Zhi’s safety, didn’t dare have her actually suspended from a high building. Plus, her fear of heights meant the crew had to quickly set up a hip-high green screen, letting her perform in front of it while CGI would later add the towering structure.

Wen Zhi’s view of her phone was suddenly blocked. Following the obstructing hand upward, she met Yun Songzhang’s slightly raised brows.

"What?"

Yun Songzhang: "Hand warmers. Just had the assistant buy them." The assistant, temporarily assigned by the crew, had given him a weird side-eye when asked to purchase them.

Filming in this weather without a down jacket was indeed chilly. Wen Zhi thanked him and took the hand warmers, applying a few to her calves and abdomen before having the assistant stick one on her lower back.

The director shouted through a megaphone, and the two shucked off their puffer coats, stepping into the center of the set.

The slate clapped: "Scene 20, Take 21, First Shot—Consort’s Snowfall Plunge, Senior Tutor Shen’s Rescue, Action!"

Snowflakes whirled in the air as Wen Zhi plummeted like a bird with broken wings. Countless thoughts flashed through her mind—her unwillingness to die drove her to claw at the rough tiles, desperate for a lifeline. Her fingers, gripping the eaves, turned white from exertion, the knuckles bruised and bloodied from the cold and strain.

Time ticked by. Beneath the corridor, two dim red lanterns cast light on her ghostly pale face. The horizon faded to gray-white as her consciousness wavered, her hands slipping slowly downward. A crow’s cry pierced the air—her grip failed, and she fell.

From such a height, death was certain.

Just as despair consumed her, a dry, warm hand seized her wrist. A hoarse, strained voice came from above as she was yanked upward, crashing into an embrace so solid and safe it stilled her soul.

A hand gently patted her hair, the comforting words laced with a tremor: "Don’t be afraid."

The scene was real enough to choke her, and Wen Zhi’s memories surged back in full force, her hands trembling as she clung to him.

"Cut!" Director Zhou’s voice shattered the moment as he raised his megaphone. "That was good, but it feels like something’s missing. Let’s do another take—Wen, when you’re pulled up, let your lips just graze his. That’ll do it."

Wen Zhi, still half in the memory, snapped back to reality and turned to the director: "What? There’s zero kissing in the script! And this wasn’t in the rewrites!"

Yun Songzhang reminded, "This scene was included in the script. I reminded you before filming, and you said you knew."

Wen Zhi recalled: He had indeed reminded her before filming, and Director Zhou had also confirmed it with her.

Wen Zhi: "..." Was finding Shen Yizhi really worth this much sacrifice?

Director Zhou explained, "This doesn’t really count as a kissing scene—just a fleeting, dreamlike brush, a defining kiss for the leads. Don’t worry, there won’t be anything like this later."

Wen Zhi: "Was this written by Shen Yizhi, or added by the screenwriter?"

Director Zhou shamelessly admitted, "I added it temporarily." Then, feeling a bit guilty, he quickly added, "This scene is crucial. If there are any issues with the plot later, I’ll help communicate with Shen Yizhi."

Wen Zhi: "Fine." She bit her lip and resigned herself to it.

The clapper snapped: "Scene 20, Shot 21, Take 1—Consort’s Snowy Night Fall, Senior Tutor Shen’s Rescue, action!"

Wen Zhi’s wrist was grabbed, and a powerful yank sent her flying forward toward Shen Zhi. In the dim light, Yun Songzhang’s handsome face merged with Shen Yizhi’s.

Her pulse hammered again. Just as her lips were about to brush his, she abruptly turned her face to the side, skimming past his left cheek instead.

"Cut!" Director Zhou’s loudspeaker blared again. "Ms. Wen, that’s not it—it’s supposed to be an actual lip-to-lip kiss!"

Wen Zhi snapped her head up: "Shut up!"

Director Zhou immediately fell silent, then sulked—he—a director—had been cowed by an actor’s glare.

Wen Zhi sat up, her eyes instinctively checking Yun Songzhang’s left cheek. Finding nothing there, she let out a relieved breath and said to the director, "Sorry, I lost my temper just now. Let’s do it again."

Yun Songzhang also sat up and asked softly, "If you’re uncomfortable with the kiss, I can talk to the director."

Wen Zhi shot him a glare: "You’ve got a lot of nerve."

Yun Songzhang abruptly changed the subject: "Is it because I’m the male lead that you can’t bring yourself to do it?"

Wen Zhi shot back without thinking, "If the male lead weren’t you, I’d have punched Director Zhou for changing the script first, then flipped over a table and stormed out." Realizing what she’d just said, she immediately averted her gaze, biting her lip in silent regret.

Amusement flickered in Yun Songzhang’s eyes, his sharp profile exuding the refined elegance of a scholar.

Hearing his quiet laughter, Wen Zhi inexplicably felt annoyed. She turned and glared at him before shouting to the director, "Director, let’s go again!" Her tone challenged anyone to back down—like refusing would brand them a coward.

Author’s Note:

Wen Zhi: I never thought I’d be the one to chicken out.